


Hush

by SeverelyBurnt_Toast



Series: Serpentes In Hortos Side Projects [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Best Friends, Bonding, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, British Sign Language, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Romantic Fluff, Side Story, Sign Language, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverelyBurnt_Toast/pseuds/SeverelyBurnt_Toast
Summary: There she stood, alone, in the cold Scottish winter. Snow softly cascading amongst her. Not a single sound, coming from her desolate point.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter
Series: Serpentes In Hortos Side Projects [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795738
Comments: 41
Kudos: 115





	1. He Had A Lot To Say, She Had A Lot Of Nothing To Say

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for checking out the story!  
> Quick disclaimer for you all; some readers may be familiar with my other current story, Litanie contre la Peur, if not, go check it out if you wish!  
> The reason I’m bringing my other story up is that this story is acting more as a side-project while I work on Litanie. During cases of writer’s block or simply when I have time to kill, I work on this!  
> THIS DOES NOT MEAN, I do not care about this story, it simply means that updates may not be extremely frequent. If this irks you, I completely understand and hope you find a different story more to your liking!  
> I also want to bring up the ridiculously short length of this first chapter, that is because it is part of a three-part prologue, after that, chapter-length will definitely increase!  
> Hope you enjoy! : )

* * *

_Daphne Greengrass; The Ice Queen Of Slytherin_.

Harry felt like he suddenly knew just what that nickname meant.

There she stood, alone, in the cold Scottish winter. Snow softly cascading amongst her. Not a single sound, coming from her desolate point. Flecks of snow lodged their way into her vibrant - near golden - blonde hair while others clung to her dark, Slytherin, robes. Her eyes shone with a soft aquamarine shade of blue that seemed to glow in the moonlight; her irises resembling blue ice. The green and silver colors of the Slytherin house coiled around her neck in the form of a tightly wound scarf. She looked at peace within the near blizzard-like weather, mere hours before curfew.

She stood unmoving, almost like a statue just on the bank of the Black Lake. Her hands were clasped behind her back while covered by her thin wool gloves, her fore and middle fingers were hooked together while her ring and pinky fingers dangled unceremoniously.

Harry had half a mind to stay away from the girl; to continue his way towards Gryffindor tower after Umbridge's detention - _torture._ He didn't even realize what was happening as his legs dragged him towards the Slytherin recluse. The snow crunched softly under his boots, the frigid snow tickled strangely on the fresh wound that now rested on his hand - courtesy of Umbridge.

Harry stopped to stand an arm's length away from Daphne; her blue ice-like eyes remained unfocused and glassy, peering out onto the Black Lake but not really _seeing_ the lake itself. She looked conflicted; _confused._

"Rather cold out tonight, don't you think?" Despite how softy Harry asked, Daphne still jumped like a startled cat. Harry noticed how the girl's hands immediately shot to her scarf, subconsciously tightening it around her neck.

Daphne shakily nodded her head in agreement to the question. Had the snow not been falling as thickly as it was, Harry would've considered her act of tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear oddly cute. She looked so ambivalent; a clear contrast to the indifferent and aloof mask Harry knew she wore throughout the day.

Watching the _Ice Queen_ kick the ground awkwardly as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth threw Harry for a loop. The fact that she looked so scared; so _vulnerable_ made his stomach lurched uncomfortably. She was acting as if he just found out some scandalous secret of hers.

"What're you doing out here in the cold?" Harry found himself asking, his gaze still studying the girl meticulously. To any other Gryffindor, they would have compared it to Hermione's incessant staring as she studied new topics, her eyes filled with a lust for answers. Harry's green orbs held a similar thirst for understanding.

Daphne only offered a shrug to the query, her lips quirking into a morose frown. Fifteen years' worth of sadness seemed to pool into the one expression, almost as if it were an ordinary look for her. It made Harry's chest squirm uncomfortably; frowning didn't suit her at all.

Harry watched as the girl teetered from foot to foot; her hands now clasped together in front of her stomach. Harry assumed she'd be picking at her nails if she were able to do so. Seeing the supposedly constantly composed Pureblood act so nervous around him - as if she were waiting for something bad to happen to her - had Harry quirk an eyebrow in her direction.

"You don't mind if I stick around for a little bit, do you?" Another shake of her head gave Harry his answer. Despite the seemingly positive answer, Harry couldn't stop the frown - not unlike Daphne's earlier one - firming one his face.

"You're not really one for talking are you?" The question sobered her in an instant.

The awkward toeing of the ground ceased as her hands came to a curt stop over her navel. Her expression was calmer; steadier, but the persistent frown and downcast, far-off look her eyes held told Harry that she was far from happy with the situation.

Slowly, she crouched downwards, pointing a finger out to prod at the white powder that was snow. Harry watched with rapt attention as her gloved hand traced letters into the ground, spelling out what he could only assume was a message.

As she stood back up, tucking a strand of hair that fell out of place behind her ear, Daphne moved her left foot forward ever so slightly. The soft gesture urged Harry to read the message.

Harry cocked an eyebrow incredulously but moved closer to the Slytherin all the same. Still standing a respectful distance away from the girl, Harry read her short message in the snow. It was only two words long, but it made Harry's breath clog up in his throat all the same.

_I CAN'T_

"Oh," Harry cringed internally. Here was this massive revelation for the reason she never talked to anybody; never answered questions in class or made an effort to try to make friends, - at least as far as Harry knew - was because she _couldn't._

And all he could manage was " _oh."_

Harry turned his attention back to Daphne, watching carefully - _gently -_ while all she responded with was a meek nod of the head. Her look of pure dejection sent a knowing pang through his heart. Harry would've actually preferred her aloof and withdrawn nature than whatever it was she was feeling and expressing right now.

"Is that why you sit alone?" A resigned nod. Harry felt a chin run up his spine; one not related to the cold weather.

"You don't have any friends, do you?"

Daphne winced. She _actually_ winced. Her shoulders slumped down, eyes brimming with genuinely hurt tears as she furiously wiped her rosy nose. Harry couldn't help but pity the girl.

Here she stood in the freezing climate, _alone,_ all because she was different. All because she communicated in an atypical way. It reminded Harry of his treatment from the Dursleys.

He was different, - _unusual_ \- therefore he was feared.

Harry let out a small breath, watching as it materialized in front of him in the form of a small cloud. He stole quick glances at the girl standing beside him, silently scrutinizing her as if she were a riddle to be solved.

"Well, if you don't mind," Daphne's head snapped upwards to face him as he spoke. Her eyes stoned in a silent glare, apprehension evident in her gaze. "I wouldn't mind being the first."

Her piercing eyes shot open wide, her lips pursing into a thin line. Another batch of tears welled in Daphne's ducts as her hands fumbled together in front of her. That look of confusion and subtle fear reared its head once more. Harry smiled softly, withdrawing his non-scarred hand from his warm pockets to extend it in greeting.

"I'm Harry," it was such a simple statement. But it seemed to speak volumes to the young witch before him.

Her breath hitched roughly in her throat, her tears - this time of joy - tumbling out messily as she grabbed his offered hand with fervor. Her lips curled into a silent smile as she shook it.

As Daphne let go of Harry's hand, she raised them to her chest, pausing for a brief moment before she _spoke._ Her hands moved in a pattern that Harry couldn't decipher; the different symbols she showed lost in his mind. He let out a soft-spoken thanks as she mouthed her statement.

" _I'm Daphne."_

Harry smiled warmly at the scene, meeting Daphne's own bashful one.

"Pleasure meeting you, Daphne."

Even with the snow falling around his shoulders and the cold air whisking around the Black Lake, making it _that_ much colder, Harry couldn't stop the warmth that shot through his chest.

* * *


	2. She Had A Lot Of Nothing To Say, He Had A Lot To Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you stuck around? That's great!
> 
> Here's the second part of the prologue, only one more to go after this until the story really gets going!
> 
> This second part is basically just the previous chapter just from Daphne's POV, if you want to skip this chapter that makes perfect sense!
> 
> Also just going to mention that this story starts during fifth year, not quite sure if it will stretch between fifth, sixth, and seventh yet.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The Black Lake was still; calm. The dark waters showed nothing more than a few ripples and tears on its surface as it slowly began freezing over. The cascading snow, pattering against the water with soft shushing noise, before melting down into the murky depths; destined to join the wallowing waters.

Daphne found the howls of wind: the soft tapping across the lake, and the chirps and sound of wildlife in the surrounding forests, oddly calming. The strange symphony burning its way in her mind as she listened.

The birds above her sang their songs, and the unicorns deeper within the forest trilled and neighed. Despite her better judgment, Daphne felt the familiar pang of jealousy ache in her chest.

Her mother had once called her daughter's voice beautiful; often describing it as smooth, silky, and melodic. All reduced to a breathy, hoarse whimper. All that was left of her was her near golden blonde hair and aquamarine eyes that resembled blue ice in the Arctic.

Daphne could live without her voice; she had been for the past seven years. The other complications with her paralyzed vocal cords were mere after-effects she'd have to deal with. The frequent throat clearing, the detestable coughing when she ate food; all minimal things that she could abide by. She was used to being teased for being mute; often having to deal with pranks that she couldn't escape from due to her lack of speech, the inability to call for help if they locked her in somewhere. Even crude, disgusting jokes made by her male housemates due to her alleged lack of gag reflex were the norm.

A normalcy, she so desperately wanted to break.

Her trips to the black lake were simple escapes. Trips that couldn't last forever by any means, but we're long enough to offer enough peace to keep her sane for a few more days.

So she stood; alone. In the cold Scottish winter. Snow cascading around her like a veil; flecks of the cold powder sticking in her hair and on her robes. Her fore and middle fingers hooked around each other behind her back while her ring and pinkies dangled in the air. And she listened.

Listened to the birds, and to the wind; to the unicorns and to the snow rumbles of the black lake. Unaware of the soft crunching that came to a stop by her side.

"Rather cold out tonight, don't you think?" A voice to her right, sudden, and startling. Her bones nearly jumped out of her skin as Daphne turned to face her visitor.

Harry Potter; The Gryffindor Golden Boy.

Daphne wanted to throw on her aloof mask; to simply eye the Gryffindor with a disinterested gaze until he left. She _wanted_ to use the Ice Queen persona she loathed but adopted nonetheless.

But she didn't.

Instead, she nodded shakily, subconsciously wrapping her scarf _that_ much tighter around her neck. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding Harry's gaze by searching for something _\- anything -_ over the Black Lake. She kicked the ground awkwardly, not quite sure _how_ to deal with the Gryffindor but not necessarily _wanting_ him to leave her all alone either.

Daphne would admit, the boy was at least attractive; in a rugged, messy sort of way. Of course, she would never admit such a thing to him. Even if she could effectively.

Daphne nibbled on her bottom lip, thinking over just how to keep Harry around. The idea itself was rather strange for Daphne; was she _that_ deprived of human connection that the instant someone approached her, she planned and sought out ways to keep the interacting afloat? It wouldn't have surprised her in all honesty.

Although the fact he _had_ approached her, had left Daphne in a confused daze.

"What're doing out here in the cold?" A simple question, one that shouldn't have been asked as seriously as it was.

Daphne chanced a glance at her companion, his eyes held an intensity that Daphne had only ever seen whenever she spotted that Granger girl studying in the library. A lust for answers; a _thirst_ and desperation for understanding.

Given the tools she had, Daphne shrugged. A frown crossed her face as she moved her hands in front of her navel; her wool gloves were the only thing stopping her from picking at her nails. She hopped from foot to foot, the silent question of just when _that_ query was going to pop up lodged itself in her mind.

"You don't mind if I stick around for a bit, do you?" Three questions, this must've been a new record Daphne mused.

With a shake of the head, Daphne allowed his presence. Despite the answer to his question, Harry's eyes remained firmly on _her_. Studying, scrutinizing, _questioning_. Daphne's incessant toeing of the snow kept its pace as Harry frowned at her. That was never good.

"You're not really one for talking, are you?" There it was, the dreaded question.

In an instant, Daphne's movements halted. Her joints clogging together like an un-oiled machine as her visage of uncertainty and worry, cleared to form a much calmer look, though a frown remained plastered. She expected this, after all, once she answered this one, simple question, it would be yet another acquaintance leaving her due to her oddities.

Slowly, Daphne crouched down, her forefinger extending outwards to write her message. It was two simple words, yet the power they held for someone like _her_ was insurmountable.

_I CAN'T_

She re-read it, over and over in her head as she stood back up, a strand of hair falling out of place as she did so. She tucked the hair behind her ear, that was simple. But as she motioned with her left foot for Harry to read her response, Daphne swore her joints were jammed with _something_. Her movements felt sluggish, almost painful as she awaited the inevitable.

Harry moved closer to her, remaining a respectful distance away as he leaned close to get a clearer look at her message in the snow. Daphne watched as his brows furrowed and his eyes squinted together as he tried to read her writing.

She knew the instant the message clicked in his head; his eyes shot wide as a soft " _oh,"_ escaped his lips. Now there was no turning back.

Slowly, Harry looked back up at her; his eyes no longer squinted, and now holding a gentle, worried undertone. All Daphne could do was offer a weak nod of the head.

"Is that why you sit alone?" Another pitiful nod. Although, to her confusion, Harry seemed to tense at the prospect of Daphne sitting by herself.

"You don't have any friends, do you?" Daphne could feel her heart wrench at the question. It was true after all, she didn't have any friends.

Sure there was Tracey Davis, but she was more of a getaway if anything. The half-blood Slytherin would often tell the others to cease their torment of Daphne but that made her more of an acquaintance or ally more than a friend.

Judging by the way Harry frowned at her, watching her with a saddened gaze, Daphne assumed she had reacted rather poorly to the question. She could feel the sting of tears poking and prodding at her eyes; the cool liquid of unladylike mucus starting to edge its way out of her cold, pinked nose. She wiped the slime away stubbornly. Even a fragile state, Daphne had enough decorum not to cry in front of someone she barely spoke to.

Harry let out a heavy breath beside her, his exhalation forming a small mist just in front of his mouth. His eyes kept flickering between her and the Lake in front of them, his brow furrowed as he seemingly pondered a question.

"Well, if you don't mind," her gaze snapped to his face in an instant. Her trademark Ice Queen glare forming at the proclamation. What could she possibly not mind? Making jokes at her expense? Taking advantage of her inability to call for help?

" _I_ wouldn't mind being the first," a short burst of anger shot through Daphne, assuming he was referring to _that_ first. But as their previous "conversation" filtered back into the forefront of her mind, understanding clicked into place.

Her first _friend_.

Another batch of tears welled into her eyes, this time with a much more positive connotation. Malfoy had been wrong all along, Potter was anything _but_ an arrogant prat… so far at least.

Daphne watched with bated breath as Harry withdrew one of his pocketed hands, extending it out towards her in a cordial manner.

"I'm Harry," never before had a name sounded so pleasant to Daphne's ears. He spoke so gently, a small smile toying at his lips, his eyes never leaving her own as they shot wide at his offer.

Daphne could feel her breath clog in her throat, tears slowly streaming down her face like river water as she met his hand with her own. Her lips curled upwards into a smile as the two shook hands.

As their grips relinquished each other's, Daphne began to raise her hands upwards towards her chest. She needed to _talk_ to him; to _speak_. Her movements paused just above her breasts, he wouldn't understand of course but, she could still mouth her sentence to help him.

Steadying her breath, Daphne finally _talked_. Once again, it was only two simple words, but they held enough emotion for _her_ to rival a whole essay.

" _I'm Daphne,"_ just as she expected, her signs flew over his head. Though a soft-spoken thanks lingered due to her decision to silently mouth her sentence.

Daphne could feel a strange warmth flood her system as Harry's soft smile grew _that_ much bigger. His emerald eyes crinkled in joy as he stuffed his hands back into his pockets.

"Pleasure meeting you, Daphne," the genuineness of his voice spoke volumes to Daphne.

Even in the Scottish winter; cold air whipping across the lake making it _that_ much more frigid, snow still cascading around the two as if they were statues in a snow-globe. Daphne felt inexplicably warm with Harry beside her.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hope you enjoyed, the second piece of the prologue will hopefully be out soon, but unfortunately, no promises!" I say as the second part is released the next day. Isn't that funny? Granted, I basically just had to rehash part 1 of the prologue, so yay me!
> 
> I am by no means an expert on Vocal Cord Paralyzation, the symptoms mentioned I got off of WebMD and MayoClinic, I'm doing the best I can!
> 
> Also, yeah some parts of this chapter are, essentially just copy and pasted from the first part of the prologue. But like I said, it was basically just a retelling of it, just from Daphne's POV, so don't flame me too hard lads and lasses.
> 
> Only one more part of the prologue left before the story really starts up, so stick around if you wish!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and for those following Litanie contre la Peur as well, expect an update soon!


	3. My Voice Will Vanish For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final piece of the prologue puzzle!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, criticism is always welcome!

Hermione was worried, insanely so.

Never before had she seen Harry so focused, nor as silent as he was now. With his fingers curled and clasped together so his pointers stuck out into an arrow, which he then rested over his lips as he stared into the crackling fire of the Gryffindor common room had left him looking like some philosopher, questioning life and its purpose. For all Hermione knew, he actually might've been doing just that.

On numerous occasions, Hermione would gently prod at Harry's elbow, softly calling his name to earn a disgruntled grunt in response; only to then ask if he was alright, simply to gain another hum of neither approval nor denial, but rather complete disregard. It was rapidly pushing her into a rather annoyed but concerned state.

She tried fruitlessly to focus on her book, _Dirty Dueling: A History of Sneaky Tactics To Use In Dire Moments,_ hoping to make up for Umbridge's pathetic excuse for teaching, but each her time gaze flickered over to see Harry's solemn stare, her will to keep reading diminished slowly.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, her fingers curling over the top of her choice of literature as she tried to calm her rapidly fraying nerves.

For what felt like the twelfth time that night, Hermione softly nudged Harry's elbow to the side.

"Harry?" Hermione called delicately, moving her hand up to his shoulder to tap it softly. "Are you alright?"

To her surprise, Harry actually turned to face her this time. His eyes shone with a determination she so rarely saw. His jaw was taught with an unreadable look as he appeared to _study_ her.

"Do you know anything about sign language?" Hermione felt her jaw go slack at the question, though Harry's gaze didn't deter. "I've been wanting to learn it for a little while now."

"Sign language?" Her own voice sounded foreign to her ears, the soft tone cracking strangely as she spoke.

"Yeah, you know," Harry made a flippant gesture with his hand, his nose scrunching in the process.

"Actually, no, I _don't_ know, Harry," Hermione made a strange sputtering sound, closing the book that rested in her lap slowly as she squirmed closer to Harry.

"Really?" The Seeker sounded genuinely confused. His eyes narrowed in disbelief as Hermione shook her head in denial. "There was nothing on like, students with impairments in _Hogwarts, A History?_ On how they're taught, and live and all that?"

Hermione frowned at the question. While her beloved book certainly did have an entire section dedicated on how students with physical and mental ailments spent their time within the castle's walls, she had been expecting him to ask her about her time in the library; wondering if she had ever seen a book that could help him learn the language.

But he had focused on the _students_. This wasn't a situation of _why_ , he wanted to learn it; it was _who_ , he wanted to learn it for.

"Well, there was this one part…" Hermione trailed off; her sight fell down towards the floor, the girl watching out of the corner of her eyes as Harry's eyes lit up with excitement. With a shake of her head, Hermione looked back up at her best friend, her frown remaining persistent on staying. "Harry, can't you just tell me why on _earth,_ you're suddenly interested in sign language. Please?"

Harry shrugged at the query, his emerald green eyes still staring determinedly at her as he threw off the question.

"After class project?" He offered feebly. His lips struggled to determine whether they wanted to rest in a smirk or frown.

Hermione's expression had no such struggle; her lips falling quickly and parting slightly as she struggled for words. Harry was lying; lying to _her_ of all people. Hermione wouldn't deny that such an act sent small stabs of sadness towards her heart. The girl quickly hardened her gaze, sending an annoyed glare, her best friend's way.

"I'm not particularly happy when my friends lie to me, _Harry,"_ Hermione jabbed a finger into Harry's chest, pushing the boy back onto the couch. The Seeker's mouth parted in confusion, a bewildered sputter escaping his mouth at the accusation.

"Hermione, what are you talki-"

"You asked me," Hermione growled the words out, cutting Harry off as she continued to poke Harry's chest with her finger. "if _Hogwarts, A History_ , had anything on _students with impairments_ and how they're treated."

Harry nodded at the assessment, his mouth fumbling for a response as Hermione continued her small tirade.

"You _didn't_ ask me, whether Hogwarts had any books or any material on _learning a new language_ within its library _,_ or, if I had ever read something on the matter, _"_ Hermione stated, Harry's lips pursed together quickly.

In that instant, Hermione knew she had Harry cornered. A small sigh escaped him as Hermione retracted her finger from his chest, the girl crossing her arms as she glared dangerously at him.

"That means, I shouldn't be asking _why,_ but rather _who,_ and I'm only going to ask _once_ Harry," Hermione spoke with such finality, she reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley. "And you _better_ not lie this time."

Harry sent a few fleeting glances throughout the Gryffindor common room, wetting his lips nervously as if preparing to share some dark secret. With a resounding huff, Harry met Hermione's gaze.

"Do you know Daphne Greengrass?" Harry asked quietly. Hermione could barely contain the mild shock that overtook her features.

"The Slytherin in our year?" Harry nodded stiffly, "Well, she's in my Ancient Runes and Arithmancy classes, but I've never talked to her."

"That's because she can't."

"What do you mean she ca-" everything suddenly clicked in Hermione's mind.

Why Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower later than normal two nights ago, the sudden interest in sign language, how Harry seemed to search the Slytherin table for _something_ \- now confirmed to be _someone_ \- at every meal. He had met her sometime this week, not the _Ice Queen_ everyone would call her due to her lack of verbal responses; but he _had_ met the student, Daphne Greengrass.

And he had _talked_ to her.

"Oh," Hermione mumbled. Harry merely pursed his lips.

"She doesn't have anyone to _talk_ to, Hermione. I thought… I thought I'd surprise her," Harry admitted, his voice holding an authenticity that spoke volumes to Hermione.

"That's… very considerate of you, Harry," Hermione whispered softly, placing her hand over her heart as she thought over the sentimental act. Harry snorted at the compliment, his mouth twisting in a mirthful smirk.

"You're acting as if I'm incapable of empathy, 'Mione," Harry teased, earning a scowl from the girl sitting beside him.

"Don't call me that," his friend scolded, folding her arms over her chest, as her cheeks gained a pinkish hue. "And I don't think you're incapable of empathy, Harry, it's just… rather rare."

Harry let out another bout of chuckles, patting Hermione's shoulder as she stared indignantly at him.

"Always knew I could count on you for emotional support, 'Mione," his voice oozed with mirth as Hermione let out a huff, smacking his arm with her hand in an annoyed gesture.

As Hermione slowly calmed down to a more agreeable state, Harry refreshed her on his request, appealing to her studious nature to help persuade his bushy-haired friend to help him.

"Just think about it, 'Mione; hours spent in the library doing nothing but _studying,_ " Harry's teasing tone held an odd undercurrent of seriousness. Hermione's frown faltered for a moment, a hopeful glint shining in her eyes as she held Harry to his word.

"Fine, I'll help you," Hermione conceded, pointing a vicious finger that promised pain Harry's way before continuing. "But if you taunt Greengrass in any way shape or form, Morgana help me, Harry, you _will_ come to regret it."

Harry raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning from ear to ear in the process.

"I promise 'Mione," Harry could barely contain his joy.

Hermione eyed him warily before a small smile crept up onto her features. At that moment, Harry knew he had made the right decision in wanting to surprise Daphne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the prologue is complete! Now the real chapters can really get going, I hope you stick around!


	4. The Package

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Sorry for the long wait!
> 
> Quick announcement that I'm going to start adding the dates at the beginning of each chapter, and where they are needed just to make following along a little easier.
> 
> I will also be creating a small timeline at the end of this chapter so events make sense.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_**December 10th, 1995** _

Her fingers traced the cobble walls; her nails grazing over the jagged stone, sending both pleasant and unpleasant shivers down her spine. The late-day sun filtered through the tall, hallway windows, illuminating flecks of dust and debris as Daphne and Harry walked side by side through the winding corridors.

The feeling of her fingers grazing over the uneven rock tickled the tops of her digits like small flies that just made her want to curl her finger into her palm. Irregardless of the unusual feeling, Daphne still indulged herself in the sensations during her and Harry's walks.

Walks which had become a surreal, but welcome routine sometime during the week for the two.

They would often be found walking to class together; as well as after all meals of the day. They spent their free periods and the few hours before curfew down by the Black Lake; the Scottish winter snow glinting in the sun and moonlight as they peered over the frozen waters.

Like clockwork, the Hogwarts rumor mill had churned out countless theories as to why they were spotted together so often throughout the week. Ranging from _were_ _the two secretly dating?_ To, _was Daphne seducing Harry to goad him into a ritual to earn her voice back._

The latter had become Daphne's personal favorite due to its absurdity.

She and Harry had never discussed the rumors, however, as any lingering bouts of silence between the two during their short trips were usually filled by Harry as he shared various tales of his previous years as they traversed through their multitude of pathways; going as in-depth as possible without revealing something he wasn't meant to: namely, anything to do with his godfather Sirius or the Order.

Daphne would nod along to his stories, contorting her face into various degrees of confusion, excitement, and every other emotion needed to express how she hung onto his every word. Even if she secretly believed that Harry had to have been embellishing his stories slightly, she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

She let her fingers trace the cobblestone walls; her nails grazing over the jagged stone, sending both pleasant and unpleasant shivers down her spine as they walked through the century-old hallways toward the main courtyard, making their way towards the Black Lake after dinner. The late-day sun filtered through the tall windows, illuminating flecks of dust and debris as they floated in iridescent and distorted patterns. At that moment.

They were silent.

Daphne could feel her lips curl upwards into a small smile. She loved these instances most of all. When it was just him and her; proving that they didn't need to talk to appreciate the company of each other. Proving that her disability could be anything but and didn't affect her life the way everyone thought it would.

Daphne's head cocked to the side subtlety in an almost canine like manner as her ears picked up the subtle vibrations of Harry's mouth. He was humming a song, most likely a Muggle one, as he walked beside her. His much thinner lips were quirked up into a smile, not unlike her own. Daphne could feel her face warm at the scene.

The fact that Harry didn't need to interact conversationally with her; that he just needed to be _with_ her, and was still at least content did indescribable things for her self-esteem.

Even when she thought she was being irritating: when her breaths were sucked in with harsh whistles or when she let out body wracking coughs whenever she swallowed strangely, Harry had always been there with kind and concerned eyes instead of irate ones.

But it did nothing to quell the irrational worries that bubbled and cut just underneath her skin like small, infected wounds. Festering, growing, _consuming._

Would he be happier if she could respond and contribute to their "conversations", instead of having to rely on facial expressions and generic hand gestures? Would he value her friendship more, if he could hear what was once described as angelic?

Daphne shook her head violently to dispel the ear-aching thoughts, scowling at the ground as if it had stolen her favorite book. In all her years of living, worrying over "what if's," was something she had sworn to never do. Yet the instant a boy comes along, - The _Boy-Who-Lived_ no less - and her personal vow was doomed to crumble down like a poorly constructed wall.

She knew it was childish; that it was completely inane to ponder over such thoughts. Yet they lingered like an offbeat tempo.

A silver flash suddenly appeared in front of Daphne's eyes, glinting in the sunlight like a star. The sight sent a jolt through her body as she whipped her head over to her companion.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" Harry joked, flicking the coin into the air for Daphne to catch as he grinned mischievously.

Daphne caught the silver chunk of money in her cupped hands, watching as the sunlight bounced off of its rough surface before placing it in her pocket. Her shoulders shook in silent laughter at Harry's small jest, the action causing her hair to tumble around her shoulders in a wild display.

Tucking her hair back behind her ear, Daphne bugged out her eyes as she gestured wildly with her hands near her temples as if to say " _silly concepts."_ A low chuckle erupted from Harry's throat at the display; the choppy tones of his laughter leading to another small smile to rest on Daphne's face.

"You know Hermione, right?" Harry asked between laughs. It was a much stranger question than she was accustomed to, but Daphne nodded regardless.

The distinct sound of rustling fabric was quick to replace Harry's jovial notes, the scratchy chime echoing throughout the hallway as Daphne watched Harry curiously.

"Well, I told her about you - or rather she _knew_ about you, and I just told her about us - _this,"_ Harry scratched the back of his head with his free hand, his lips quirking awkwardly at his stumbling.

"Sorry," he muttered. Daphne shook her shoulders in silent mirth, her nose crinkling in amusement at Harry's misfortune.

"Well anyway, she felt bad that you can't - well, you know, so we made you this," His pocket search only lasted a few more seconds; a light blue quill and a regular looking piece of parchment now being held firmly in Harry's grip as he held it out for Daphne to take.

"The Weasley twins and Professor Flitwick helped us out with the charms," Harry heaved his arms in a one-armed shrug, his smile never once faltering on his face. "You can consider this an early Christmas gift. An _extremely_ early Christmas gift. From the lot of us."

Extremely didn't even begin to cover it; the snowy holiday wasn't for another two weeks! Even so, Daphne tentatively reached out, grabbing the quill between her thumb, middle, and forefinger; while grabbing the parchment with her left hand.

"It's rather simple, really," Harry explained. "A self-inking quill and some charmed parchment. The feather acts as an eraser."

Daphne's eyes flicked between the two objects and Harry, her aquamarine eyes widening. Her bright orbs watched as Harry grinned wickedly down at her, gesturing with his left hand for her to try out her gift.

Daphne was quick with her writing, the familiar scratching of the quill on the rough sheet resounding in her ears as she scribbled down her short message. Daphne silently wished she wasn't going loopy or losing her hearing, as she swore she could hear the sound of the quill scraping along twice.

The dark ink of her message bled into the page as it rested on the askew colors of the roll of parchment. Remembering what Harry had said about the feather, Daphne gently ran the tuft over the sentence, watching in amazement as each letter in the sentence disappeared consecutively shortly after.

"That's not even the best part," Harry stated, excitedly. With the speed of his beloved snitch, Harry drove his hand back into his pocket, rustling its contents around for a few moments before retrieving an almost identical sheet of parchment to Daphne's

"Go on, write something again," Daphne, although a little confused, obliged as she and Harry stopped walking in the main courtyard of Hogwarts.

Once again, the rough crinkling of quill on parchment echoed twice throughout their current location. Peering up at Harry's sheet, Daphne watched in amazement as her message scrawled itself onto his page; the hoops and curves of her writing-style mimicked perfectly on his blemished sheet.

"Impressive, right?" Harry grinned.

Daphne nodded her head vigorously, beaming up at Harry with a toothy smile as she held her quill and parchment close to her chest. Her aquamarine eyes shone so brightly, Harry swore they were glowing in the sunlight. Her grin was infectious, as Harry's had grown nearly tenfold at the sight.

With a quick swish of the quill's feather, Daphne watched as her words vanished from both her page and Harry's. The words seemed to bleed deeper into the page as they became blotchy and uneven, slowly vanishing over time.

This was far from _impressive._ It was downright _brilliant!_

With a vague gesture, Daphne suggested they continue their walk down to the lake. Harry readily agreed, stuffing his scroll of charmed parchment back into his pocket, once again humming his Muggle tune.

With soft pats on her leg, Daphne mimicked his rhythm.

* * *

"Now, the basis of learning any language is to master its alphabet."

Harry stiffened significantly at the sight of the textbook gripped firmly in Hermione's hands as she sat down in front of him. Their impromptu sign language lesson was mere hours after the Seeker had returned from his perusal around the Black Lake.

Hermione had spent the prior seven days, eagerly searching the shelves of the Hogwarts library for the material. Upon finding her desired text, Hermione had all but dragged Harry to the library in order to begin studying.

With nimble fingers, Hermione began to flip her way through the textbook, bypassing the table of contents in her search.

"You gave her the temporary?" Hermione asked in her frenzy. Her brown eyes flicked up towards Harry in a near-instant, one of her eyebrows cocked upwards in questioning.

Harry exhaled deeply in laughter, the soft gust of air bellowing some of the thick dust that coated the withered pages of their book.

"No, Hermione," He drawled sarcastically, "I merely spent my time with Daphne _discussing_ Quidditch and not at all giving her something to make communicating with each other much easier."

Hermione curled her nose at the jest; her lips pursing together in mild disgust as she hastily began searching through the textbook once more.

"That was a rather foul joke and you know it," she chastised. With an indignant huff, Hermione shot a much more scornful look, Harry's way.

"Am I _that_ bad at empathizing with others that you thought I _wouldn't_ give it to her?" Despite its accusatory nature, Harry's question oozed a teasing nature. His lips quirked up into a playful grin at the sight of pink dusting Hermione's cheeks.

"It's been a week already Harry, can't you let that silly comment go?" Hermione spat out quickly, a tone of pleading just barely hidden underneath her annoyance.

Harry raised an eyebrow in silent questioning, the silent _"really?"_ hung between them like a heavy cloud. Hermione's glare faltered, a softer sigh escaping her as she flipped through the pages.

"Of course not," Hermione muttered under her breath, ignoring the amused chuckle originating from the boy in front of her.

Her eyes did a double-take over the pages that currently rested underneath her fingertips, her digits tracing over the old paper before quickly wrapping around the edges of the book excitedly.

"I've found it!" She exclaimed. Every trace of annoyance once coating Hermione vanished in an instant.

Spinning the shared book to face Harry, Hermione pushed the text closer to her partner. The Seeker sat up straighter at the site, leaning in close to study the pages meticulously. His once mischievous grin fading into a much more serious expression.

Crudely drawn faces held exquisitely drawn hands up in front of them, each image staying perfectly still. Each picture sat atop a singular letter, the hoops and curves of the writing style resembled cursive writing. They filled the pages in rows of three; the upper left corner of the left page being painted with the first letter of the English lexicon.

Harry traced his fingers over the symbol, vaguely recalling Daphne's use of it while spelling her name. His eyes traveled over each letter and their respective signs, frequently tracing them with his index finger.

"Now, while searching for a suitable book, I did a little research," Hermione cut in, leaning down slightly to catch Harry's eyes.

Harry's grin returned briefly as he peered up at the bushy-haired witch in front of him from over his glasses.

"Was this a _Hermione Granger_ little or a _Ron Weasley_ little?" Harry asked. For the second time that afternoon, Hermione's cheeks gained a distinct reddish hue.

"Well, a _Ron Weasley_ little, is none at all. What do you think?" Hermione shot back, yanking the book away from Harry with a sharp tug.

Harry raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking slightly as he gestured for Hermione to elaborate. With a heavy breath, Hermione spoke.

"After your initial question, I went back to re-read _Hogwarts, A History_."

" _What_ a surprise that is."

With another sharp glare, Hermione silenced Harry. The Seeker snickered to himself, remaining as quiet as possible as Hermione continued.

"Anyway, upon reaching the section we had discussed briefly, I noticed how it claimed that Hogwarts, and the wizarding world as a whole, has used standard _British Sign Language_ for the past two hundred years," Hermione explained, slowly closing their shared textbook to stare directly into Harry's eyes.

"Reading that had piqued my interest; BSL was _invented_ two-hundred years ago Harry, do you know what that means?" Hermione question, her eyes shining with a strange quality Harry couldn't recall ever seeing before.

With a half-hearted shrug, Harry declined. Hermione leaned over the table, leaving a very small schism between them.

"Harry, if BSL was being used in the wizarding world during the same time period of its conception, that means that wizards - _Pureblood_ wizards, possibly - have been using Muggle techniques," Hermione's face broke out into an excited grin.

" _Purebloods_ using a _Muggle invention_ , Harry. Isn't that fascinating?" Hermione was nearly vibrating in her seat with an emotion Harry couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I guess it is?" Harry replied. His mouth tugged itself down into a confused frown. "Is that relevant in any way?"

Hermione's ecstatic mask cracked at the question. Sitting back down in her seat, Hermione re-opened the textbook that rested between her and Harry.

"I'm not quite sure yet, I'll need to look into it a bit more," she mumbled as she flipped the old pages to where they once rested.

Harry cocked his head to the side in an act of confusion. Choosing to not dwell on the thoughts, Harry shook his head in order to dispel the bewildering ideas.

"D'you reckon we should actually start _studying_ like we planned?" The Seeker urged, gesturing to the pages Hermione had returned to.

Hermione let out a reproachful sigh at the question as she retrieved some parchment and a quill from a bag by her side.

"Can't you be this eager to study for normal classes every once in a while?" Hermione asked with a hint of desperation.

Harry merely replied with a devilish grin, his green eyes glinting with a shine akin to his godfather's impish twinkle as he acquired his own quill and parchment. Hermione let out a much more resigned sigh at the sight.

"I suppose that answers that question then."

* * *

_**December 11th, 1995** _

The Gryffindor table was oddly silent come Monday morning. The odd bout of chitter-chatter would temporarily fill the soundless void, before slowly dying down into hushed whispers. The only constant that morning being the incessant scratching and scribbling of a quill on parchment.

The fifth-year, male population of the Lion's house had grown stubbornly tolerant of the noise, as the constant scraping was heard long into the evening the previous night. Even so, none of them knew the exact cause of the noise. Each attempt at locating their source of annoyance had resulted in confused expressions and various claims of innocence.

Even the true culprit had claimed his uninvolvement, albeit with a dastardly grin threatening to split his face in two.

He maintained his façade expertly, being quick to hide his misdeeds and his tools as if their discovery would spell out his death. Even as numerous cackles of enjoyment and amusement threatened to erupt from him, he played them off with timed coughs and throaty noises.

It was slowly becoming a game for him. A game that Hermione hardly approved of. She would often send harsh glares Harry's way as he teetered the fine-line of deceit. Her intense scowls seemed to promise his imminent downfall, though the Seeker was hardly worried.

He was a master at keeping his secrets. Years spent with the Dursley's has made him an undoubted genius when it came to protecting what needed to be hidden and watched over since no one else could be allowed to view them-

"Whatchu got there then?"

Almost like lightning, Harry's head shot upwards. His left forearm came tumbling down on top of the message that had suddenly stopped scrawling itself out onto his piece of parchment as he stared wide-eyed at the boy in front of him.

Green irises flickered quickly between Ron's stuffed mouth and curious mask, and Daphne's hardly contained grin of amusement. She ducked her head down as if trying to hide her appearance, placing a hand over her mouth to try and conceal her joy.

"Spare bit of parchment?" Harry sputtered out quickly, his voice wavering as if he didn't believe himself. His eyes flicked back up towards Ron, his mouth fumbling into a shaky grin as if to placate the ginger.

"What for?" The youngest Weasley brother asked.

Harry could feel the bumpy surface of his parchment slip between his fingers as he began to slowly drag it closer to his chest. The sheet slid roughly against the oak tabletop, it's incessant rubbing drawing the attention of a few nearby Gryffindors.

"Just… working on that Charms essay Flitwick assigned us," Harry said with a fake smirk. With a quick flick of his wrist, Harry's quill snaked its way up into his robe sleeve where he pinned it against his skin with his wrist.

Diverting his gaze from Ron's confused frown, Harry watched as Daphne's head reared back in laughter; though no sounds came from her. Even though she was laughing at his nervousness and misfortune, Harry's false smile grew true for a few moments at the sight.

"The essay that _Professor_ Flitwick assigned, he means," Hermione chastised lightly. The witch's brown eyes were scrunched slightly as if in thought, while her lips continuously parted only to press down tightly together shortly after.

Ron gave Harry a gobsmacked look, the slice of buttered toast held tightly in his grip was under the threat of being turned to pathetic crumbs as Ron's hand curled around it.

"What's gotten into you mate?" Ron asked incredulously. Crumbs spewed from his mouth as he sat down in front of Harry, much to Hermione's disgust. "First you're all moody and snappy, now you're starting essays weeks before they're due!"

Harry's joyous mask cracked at Ron's comment, his green eyes snapping over to his best friend in an instant as they sharpened in annoyance.

"I have not been _moody_!" Harry snapped, ignoring the fact that he had just begun to prove Ron's point. "Or snappy!"

Harry turned to face Hermione as if she could bail him out. Much to his dismay, Hermione winced slightly, pinching her fingers together while mouthing " _just a little_." Harry barely held back a snarl at the act.

"Suppose I've been insufferable this whole time, haven't I?" The Seeker questioned. The sheet of parchment, which was bringing Harry joy mere moments before, layout in the open as the boy crossed his arms in annoyance.

Ron's mouth flapped uselessly as he struggled to find an appropriate answer to Harry's query. His eyes flickered over the once hidden parchment for a brief moment, noticing the hoops, curves, and overall pristine font of the semi-written passage, Ron's attention was quick to snap onto the scroll beneath in front of Harry.

The Weasley boy's head snapped over to Hermione in a near-instant after noticing the elegant writing of the message.

"You didn't write this for him, did you?" Ron questioned. Hermione's jaw dropped in an appalled manner, the slightest inklings of disbelief mixing in as well.

"You are _unbelievable_ Ronald! After all the work I've done for you and you _still_ can't recognize my penmanship?" Harry rolled his eyes at Hermione's genuine annoyance.

Ron made an odd sputtering sound, more flecks of the toast in his mouth spraying out in every given direction as he mimicked Hermione's appalled look.

"Well, the writing's all hoopy, and curvy, and _girly_ , so unless Harry here decided to take a class on writing over the summer, a girl has most definitely written whatever _that_ is," Ron was quick to point an accusatory finger at the piece of parchment Harry had begun to shove into his robe pocket.

"Oh, and I'm the _only_ girl capable of writing in this whole school?"

Harry had to bite back the scathing reply that threatened to explode out of him. With each retort sent between Ron and Hermione, Harry could feel his ire bubbling in him.

Every time it seemed, whenever Harry needed or just appreciated the simple silence of life, Ron and Hermione had the unfortunate effect of tearing through that silence like a hot knife.

But Daphne, Daphne _understood_ that silence. Hell, she _was_ that silence. With her, Harry could just _be_. No conversation was needed, sometimes it wasn't even desired. They were merely two anomalies existing at the same time.

And that was fine for them.

"Honestly Ron, is it so hard to believe that just _maybe_ Harry is talking to other people?

"Well, no, it's just - why haven't we heard of this person?"

"Maybe it's just _you_ who hasn't heard of this person!"

"Are you saying you know who Harry is talking to you!?"

Harry's hand curled tightly around the old wood of the great hall table. Why couldn't these two just be quiet? Just for a few bloody minutes.

"Maybe I am!"

"And neither of you thought to tell me!?"

"It's not my job to tell you who Harry is talking to -"

"I'm your guys' best friend -"

Harry stood up in the blink of an eye, his face contorting into a thunderous scowl as the bench beneath him scrapped along the stone floors with an ear-splitting screech.

"WOULD YOU TWO JUST KNOCK IT OFF!" He bellowed.

The silence suffocating the great hall was deafening. Every pair of eyes seemingly bored into the trio, watching as Harry sneered down at the befuddled Ron and Hermione.

The Seeker paid the handful of snorts and cackles from the Slytherin table no mind as he walked hastily away from his two friends. His blood roaring in his ears like a waterfall; searing just underneath his skin as his anger cooled to a dull ache in his veins.

This was hardly the first time Harry had lost his temper this year, nor was it going to be the last he knew. However, he did know that this was by far the pettiest reason he had snapped.

Pushing open the large doors of the great hall, Harry barely had time to register the sound of clacking shoes just behind him.

Through the winding corridors, Harry walked, with no real destination in mind, he let his feet carry him. The early morning sun filtered in through the large, slitted windows to paint the hallways in a striped pattern. Even with his countless turns of left and right, each pathway looked identical, though Harry hardly cared.

He walked for what felt like hours, - but in reality, was a mere few minutes - before stopping in an empty section of the large castle. Harry let himself slide down one of the many walls, ignoring the way it scratched angrily at his back as he rested his head between his knees.

The silence Harry had strived for helped soothe his frayed nerves. As his breaths evened out, Harry's ears finally registered the sounds of shoe soles in the near distance.

The rustling of robes and the clicking of shoes came to an abrupt halt to Harry's right. The unknown person scuffled around for a few more moments, echoing through the barren hallways, they're once hastened steps now much calmer as they neared Harry.

"Suppose you heard all that then?" The Seeker drawled out sarcastically, releasing a heavy breath as he prepared for an onslaught of taunts and insults from whatever Slytherins decided to follow him.

An onslaught that never came.

Harry peeked his head up in curiosity, and while his eyes did latch onto the familiar green necktie of the Slytherin house, they also met the quickly calming aquamarine eyes of his favorite snake.

Daphne had sat beside him along the cobble walls, with her sitting so close, Harry could pin-point the light dusting of freckles that crossed over her nose, ending just on the inside of her cheekbones. Her lips, while a bit thinner than average, helped enunciate her more aristocratic appearance. The small grin she sported showed off her teeth in a dazzling manner, pushing the small gap between her two front teeth into the forefront of Harry's vision.

Harry's downtrodden frown quirked up in an instant at the sight. Noticing how she was holding up her section of parchment, Harry was quick to read her message.

**I'm pretty sure the whole school heard all of that.**

Harry let out a morose chuckle at the statement, running a hand through his unkempt hair as he pondered over the statement.

"In my defense, they were being rather ridiculous," Harry justified. Daphne's shoulders shook in her silent laughter.

With a swish of her quill, the message faded away, leaving a blank page once more. Harry waited patiently as Daphne scribbled down her next sentence. Her wrist flicked this way and that, being quick with her movements but still remaining diligent as to not make a mistake.

Upon completion, Daphne was quick to show her reply.

**Would you like to talk about it?**

Harry looked between the parchment and Daphne multiple times, his grin never quite leaving his face but definitely diminishing in size. Harry pondered over the question, letting it mull around in his mind as they sat in a soft silence. In the end, he shook his head in denial, resting on the cobble wall behind him as he closed his eyes.

"No," he said quietly. "I think…"

Harry lolled his head to the side, smiling softly over at Daphne as she placed her quill and parchment back in her robe pocket.

"I think I'd just like to sit here for a while. At least until classes start anyway."

Daphne's grin stretched out into a full-blown smile, and with a resolute nod, she continued to sit next to Harry. She decided to cross her legs, resting her forearms on her calves as she twiddled her thumbs in an idle manner.

Harry smiled to himself at the scene, rolling his head back into a vertical position as he once again closed his eyes.

The silence, once plagued by thunderous ears and roaring blood was now cured by the soft chimes of the wind through the halls and the occasional click of fingernails hitting against each other.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly! I am so sorry for the huge delay in the release of this chapter. Working through the quarantine, along with my other hobbies had me completely swamped lately. As promised, here is our short timetable for events.
> 
> December 1st - Harry meets Daphne.
> 
> December 2nd - no real events
> 
> December 3rd - Harry asks Hermione to help him learn sign language.
> 
> December 4th - 10th - Daphne and Harry spend time together. Harry gives Daphne a temporary solution for her inability to respond to him.
> 
> December 11th - Ron becomes aware of Harry's secret friend.
> 
> Ron will definitely play a part in this story, don't you worry about that. This is the only timetable we will need as from now on, I'll be writing down the dates.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, criticism is always welcome, any mistakes are mine and mine alone, and I hope you stick around!


	5. I'm Not Dead!/Update

Hello everyone! Toast here.

I just want to thank everyone for their patience during these times. The most important thing I have to say right now is I’M NOT DEAD! And neither are my stories.

I recently fractured my hand in an accident at work, however, with physiotherapy and time, I’m now able to write in - not large - but decent sized chunks. Coupled with school starting up, progress may be slow, but it will still be progress.

I thank everyone for understanding and hope to surprise you all soon with a new chapter!

Sincerely,

Toast.

**Author's Note:**

> Cliche beginning, I know but hey, what can ya do?  
> Hope you enjoyed, the second piece of the prologue will hopefully be out soon, but unfortunately, no promises!


End file.
